On the Way to Maine
by deanstheman
Summary: A one-shot of the night OC hunter Tasha meets the Winchesters. Is actually a short PREquel to my fic Two Guys a Girl and a Ticket to Hell, but stands alone. Those of you who have read that fic know how this night ends up so yes - it is rated M!


_**A/N:**__This is a season three one-shot of the night female hunter Tasha meets the Winchesters. It is stand-alone but is actually a PREquel for my fic __**Two Guys, a Girl, and a Ticket to Hell **__. That fic was written all in Sam and Dean's POV but I have done this in Tasha's POV to try something different._

_Those of you who have read __**Two Guys**__ may remember Dean's teasing remark about having Tasha 'twisted up like a pretzel in his back seat' the first night they met so yes, there is sex in this one shot – ye be warned ;D Rated __**M**__. _

_This was unplanned and was a spur of the moment concoction so thanks xJenzafreakX for putting the idea in my head! You're the greatest._

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It was well after ten o'clock at night before the last of the cops left the house, the uniformed man locking the door and sealing the crime scene tape across it before shuffling down the walk and coasting away in his police cruiser. Tasha watched from a stolen older-model Audi across the street, growing more and more anxious at the thought of going inside.

This was her Aunt Viv's house. The last time she had been here was several months ago and even then she had only stayed for a few hours. Her aunt had insisted it was safer that way, safer if they only saw each other once or twice a year and safer if Viv never knew where Tasha had been or where she was going when she left. Viv was the only family Tasha had left … correction, _**had been**_ the only family Tasha had left, and now she was dead. The police report Tasha had picked up from Wichita left little room for doubt: _Vivian Horatt, forty-seven, found dead in her own home in Oklahoma City, body mutilated, victim appeared to have been tortured for days, numerous bite wounds, possibly a wild animal…no next of kin._

She swallowed to settle her nerves and got out of the car, flipping her collar up in response to the cold wind the early March night was directing her way. She walked stiffly across the dark road, repeating to herself with every step that this was a bad idea. She knew she shouldn't risk being here, that the vampire who had done this could be lurking about waiting for her to show up. He hadn't been known to hang around after his revenge-kills, but there was always a first time for everything. Diego had killed her mother, her father, and now her aunt and Tasha knew he wouldn't stop until he had killed her too.

Much like she had earlier when she had bluffed her way into the morgue with a fake Animal Control Officer badge to see her aunt's body, she ignored her logic, ignored reason. She _**needed**_ to see the house, to see where it had happened, to see first hand this message Diego had supposedly left for her…

She used the key hidden under the birdbath in the back yard to open the rear door and slipped quietly inside. Her plan was to search the house quickly for any clues on Diego and get the Hell out of there but she found herself unable to move when she stepped into the living room. She was greeted by Diego's message on the wall, the words written in her aunt's blood:

**97 DOWN, 1 TO GO  
****SEE YOU SOON NATASHA**

She had read about this in the preliminary police report and had been prepared for the gory sight but was caught off guard at the severity of the emotions that struck her. It wasn't so much the bloody writing but more so the taped outline of where Aunt Viv's body had been found on the floor.

It was so cold, so impersonal, so much like the hundred other crime scenes she had been to in her years of being a hunter. Unlike those ones, however, this wasn't an outline of some nameless victim; some poor civilian whose unfortunate encounter with the supernatural hadn't ended well. This was her family. Her only family. The only person who even knew who she was. White tape around an empty space on the floor. Such an _**empty**_ space. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks as she stared at it and she sank down onto the couch.

She was alone. Truly alone.

She was still sitting there fighting back tears when she heard someone picking the lock on the back door. In a flash she was across the room and tucked in behind the open wooden door between the kitchen and the living room, knife poised and ready for a fight. It was the knife she always carried, dipped in dead man's blood and allowed to dry before it was tucked away in her jeans waistline at the small of her back every morning - just in case that was the day Diego finally caught up with her.

She heard the door open and footsteps on the kitchen floor - two sets of footsteps, the deceptively quiet ones of heavy people treading lightly. The only light in the house was from the street lamp out front and, like Tasha, the intruders didn't switch on any lights. She heard the back door close behind them with a soft click.

_Oh shit_ … her heart was beating so loudly she was sure they would hear it. Was this the vampire Diego? It made sense he would have been watching the house, waiting for her to slip up and show herself. It was obvious from the ghastly writing on the wall that he believed she was the last of the Montoya bloodline, the last one he needed to kill to avenge the death of his beloved Eliza a century and a half ago.

"But then why would you just leave the body here for the police to find?" she heard a male voice ask in a hushed tone as they made their way through the kitchen towards her.

"To make sure Natasha got the message," the second man answered. "Duh."

_Fuck. It was Diego_. It had to be. She tightened her grip on the knife and wished she had brought her machete also. This was it. There was no getting out of this one. Even if she thought she could slip away unseen, she realized she didn't want to. She didn't really give a fuck at this point. She was going to kill Diego or die trying.

She held her breath and stayed deathly still while the first man walked past her into the living room. He was mostly in shadow as he passed but she could see he was big, at least six-foot-three, maybe more, with broad shoulders and dark hair. She swallowed at the thought of having to take him on if she was fortunate enough to take out Diego who, judging by the conversation she had overheard, was the one in the rear.

She didn't wait for the second guy to turn around. The moment he stepped past her she lunged, her blood-coated knife streaking out in a smooth arc towards the man's neck. He must have seen movement in his peripheral for he leaned backwards as if by instinct, his eyes widening in surprise as they fell upon Tasha.

She felt her blade skim the surface of his skin and scrape past his shirt collar, but knew she hadn't done much damage. She lunged again on her backswing, well aware her chances of surviving this were slim to none if she didn't take him down right now.

But he was quick; too quick. He deflected her swing and the knife sank harmlessly into the wooden door just above his shoulder. Before he could recover, however, she sank her knee into his groin, yanking the knife out of the door as he doubled over with a loud grunt.

"Dean!" she heard the first man yell from behind her as she was just about to plunge the knife into the back of the guy's neck. She faltered. The room was so dark she hadn't managed to get a good look at Diego's face but it had to be him, didn't it? The conversation between the two men certainly pointed in that direction. Why then had the other guy shouted 'Dean'?

Her split second of hesitation cost her the fight. Before she could bring the knife down on the man in front of her, the man behind her grabbed her wrist. She spun around to jerk her hand free and attempt to keep hold of her weapon but the large guy pummeled his free fist into her gut. The breath was forced out of her as she was slammed backwards, hitting the wooden door behind her with a loud thump.

The big guy wrenched the knife out of her hand and in one fluid motion, yanked the other man by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him behind him and out of harm's way. He stepped in and pressed the knife to her throat, stopping just before it broke skin. Tasha wasn't sure if he was holding back on his own accord or because of the other man's cry.

"Woah, Sam, it's a chick!" the man she had kneed rasped. He had almost managed to straighten up but was clearly still in pain, one hand cupping the front of his jeans tenderly. Tasha felt her heart skip a beat when his face was suddenly flooded with a stream of light from the streetlamp outside and she realized it wasn't Diego.

_Fuck that would have been bad if she'd killed him._

"You a vampire?" the taller man demanded harshly, the knife still held to her throat, a giant arm of steel pressed across her shoulders.

"No," she said, steadily holding his gaze. "Are you?"

He relaxed his painful grip on her but didn't drop the knife. Instead he pushed up her top lip, rubbing his thumb roughly across her upper gums. Only then did he take a step back, letting the knife drop to his side.

"Who are you then and what are you doing here?" he demanded a little less harshly.

"I should be asking you the same question," she retorted defiantly, sliding herself sideways along the door so she was no longer trapped between it and the imposing figure of the dark haired man.

"Well you could have tried asking before you kneed me in the jewels and tried to stab me," the shorter of the two men groused.

She ignored him. "Still waiting for you to prove you're not vampires," she hissed.

"We're not," he snapped.

She had taken a few steps over to the light switch and now she flicked it on. They all blinked a couple of times as their eyes adjusted but nobody moved and the air remained tense. "Prove it," Tasha repeated, getting her first good look at them. They were both well built and fit - her chances of taking them both out weren't good.

It was the tall one who complied first, pushing his own upper lip up and running his finger across his gum. She leaned closer and strained to see but couldn't make out any tell-tale bumps of a vamp's hidden teeth. She nodded and turned towards the second guy only to find him giving her a not so subtle once over, his eyes sweeping from her head to her feet and back up again as a lopsided grin appeared on his face.

"Getting a good look at the girl who just almost took you out?" she bristled.

He snorted. "Oh sweetheart, you weren't even close to taking me out. I just don't hit girls."

"You didn't even know I was a girl until I had my knife an inch from your neck," she scoffed. "Now come on, show me your teeth."

"I'm not a vampire," he growled obstinately.

"Dean, just show her your teeth."

Dean glowered up at the big guy but reluctantly pushed his lip up and leaned closer to Tasha so she could see his lack of fangs.

Satisfied, Tasha let her shoulders relax ever so slightly. "So, are you two hunters?" she asked, subtly making her way over to the middle of the living room where there was more open space and a better chance of escape should they attack.

"Yeah, you?" the tall one asked.

She nodded, not wanting to admit yet that this wasn't just some ordinary vampire hunt for her.

"You got any leads on the vamps that did this?" the hunter pressed.

She bit her lip, still unable to answer. The one called Dean remained silent but the big guy just kept on talking.

"What's your name?"

"Natasha," she said, her hand absently resting on her stomach where he had punched her. "Yours?"

"I'm Sam," he answered. "This is my brother Dean. Uh, sorry about hitting you," he said, giving her a sheepish look.

She smiled at him. "Don't worry about it; you punch like a girl anyway."

Dean chuckled at her response, giving his brother a jeering elbow nudge. Tasha turned towards him, figuring she should play nice also. "I guess I'm sorry about that knee thing," she apologized.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Take more than that to take me down," he told her. She couldn't help but notice at that point just how good looking he was. She also guessed he knew exactly that and was clearly a player. Not only had he given her chest as much attention as he had given her face, but his smile was about as cocky as smiles get.

She glanced at the taller hunter, the one named Sam, again taking note of his large, attractive build but this time noticing his gorgeous eyes and cheekbones. Wow, these guys were brothers? This was one good-looking family.

Speaking to Dean but pointing at Sam, she explained her reasoning, hoping to justify her blind attack. "It's just that when you came in," she said, "He asked '_why did __**you**__ leave the body here_?'"

Dean rolled his eyes. "We were speaking theoretically. You obviously didn't bother to listen to the first part of the conversation where I said if I was a vamp, I'd break into someone's home to eat them so I could enjoy my meal like this vamp did rather than their usual quick bite in a dark alley."

Tasha forced the neutral expression to stay on her face despite the turn her stomach took at the hunter's unknowingly callous comment that referred to Aunt Viv as a meal. Meanwhile, Sam was staring intently at the message written in blood on the wall. "You said your name is Natasha?" he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.

She groaned inwardly as she saw Dean putting two and two together and catching up with his brother's train of thought. "See you soon Natasha," the shorter hunter read aloud, turning back to face her. "Friend of yours?" he asked, the accusing tone hard to miss.

Tasha swallowed and sighed in defeat. Her father had been a hunter and had told plenty of other hunters their story before, always hoping one of them one day would stumble across Diego and somehow take him out. Though she kept hunting after his death, she tended to keep to herself more but in this case she felt she should probably explain. She glanced down at the taped outline by her feet. "The vampire who did this is called Diego," she admitted quietly. "This," she pointed to the floor, "This was my aunt."

It was hard not to notice the expression on both the brothers' faces soften immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, sounding sincere.

She shrugged her shoulder, trying to pretend she was fine in an attempt to ward off the looks of pity she was getting. "He's an old vamp," she explained. "Like, Egyptian pyramid old, not just Betty White old."

She told them her family's history. How her several-times-great grandfather, Javier Montoya, had been a hunter in Spain and had killed Diego's mate and how the vampire had vowed revenge and had attempted to murder Javier's entire family. Some had escaped and fled, living out their lives in hiding as Diego hunted them down and killed them one by one. Some managed to have children so the revenge-driven vampire was still working his way down the bloodline some hundred and fifty years later. From the message on the wall, it was clear Diego believed Tasha was the last one.

"Are you?" Dean asked. "The last one?" Tasha was suddenly very aware of his closeness. During her telling of her story, the elder brother had remained quiet, Sam being the one to ask questions. She had sat down on the couch but Dean had seemed to drift towards her, not in a flirty come-on way but more like the result of a subconscious protectiveness. She couldn't help the spark of annoyance she felt at the gesture, however unwitting it may be. The last thing she wanted was some chauvinistic hunter treating her like a helpless victim.

She nodded at his question and was both surprised and embarrassed by a tear that escaped and ran down her cheek. "Yeah," she answered, wiping it away quickly with the back of her hand. "Aunt Viv was the only family I had left."

Dean sank down onto the couch next to her, leaning forward on his knees like she was. "Hey. We'll get him, don't worry," he told her encouragingly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a firm nod. "We'll find a lead I'm sure and track him down."

"He never leaves a lead," she admitted, knowing she had used that as her own excuse to come here in the first place because 'getting some closure' just seemed like such a pussy reason.

She glanced at the hunter sitting next to her, giving him a slightly uncomfortable smile and not sure what to say with him sitting so close. He must have sensed the awkwardness for he pulled back slightly and frowned at her.

"What are you doing here alone?" he questioned suddenly. "If this Diego's after you and he knows you know the vict…Vivian, then there's every chance he'll show up here." He stood up but kept scolding her. "If he's as powerful as you say, what were you doing here alone with nothing but a knife?"

Tasha didn't say anything. She glanced guiltily down at the floor, embarrassed at being called on her foolish move by fellow hunters and unable to explain why she had needed to come here.

"Dean," Sam admonished, giving his brother a disapproving look. "She just lost her aunt."

"Yeah, I get that," the older brother relented, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry if I was blunt, it's just…" he trailed off, his point made.

"No, you're right," she admitted. "It was stupid to come here but…"

"But it was your aunt," Sam finished for her, his voice full of compassion_. Wow, he could really turn on the doe-eyes when he wanted. _

"Okay, here's a better plan," the taller man continued. "Why don't you go somewhere safe and Dean and I will stay here and see if Diego shows up?"

Tasha got to her feet, her snort letting the brothers know exactly what she thought of their insulting plan. "No way! Feel free to stick around if you want but I'm not hiding anymore. That bastard killed my entire family."

"So what, you want to just let him finish the job?" Dean accused.

She sighed. "Look, chances are he's long gone anyway," she told them. "He never kills two of us at once. I think he enjoys the thrill of the hunt too much."

"How does he keep finding your family members?" Sam asked curiously. "I would think that at least some of you would have been able to lay low."

Tasha shook her head. "I don't know. You have no idea the lengths my parents went to to keep hidden, to keep _**me**_ hidden. Aunt Viv never moved around like I do but she kept to herself. She had no real friends, she worked out of her house, she had a fake name. He just always seems to find us somehow."

"Okay, you need to tell us everything you know about this Diego," Dean said with a tone of determination.

Tasha caught Sam glancing at the white tape on the floor and back over at her. "And if he isn't coming here, I say we take this somewhere else," he suggested.

She spared a brief glance around the room. _Yeah, she was so ready to get out of here._ She was used to being by herself and usually liked it that way but tonight she found herself terrified at the very notion of being alone. Part of her was thankful these two had come along, that _anyone_ had come along.

Besides, these guys seemed legit so it couldn't hurt to put Diego on their radar and tell them everything she had found out about him so far. She knew hunters; her father had been one and had raised her as one after her mother had died. Together, she and her dad had worked with several others in the years before Diego had killed him also.

She looked up just in time to catch Dean's roaming eye on her again and chuckled to herself, thinking maybe she'd changed her opinion on him too quickly. That '_let me protect_ _you'_ vibe she'd sensed earlier had probably been more like '_let_ _me get in your pants'_.

What the heck. These men were hot. A little eye candy as a distraction from her otherwise really crappy day couldn't hurt. She just didn't want to be alone right now. She had the rest of her life for that.

"There's a tavern a couple of streets away," she offered, extending a hand and gesturing for Sam to give her back her knife. "I'll let you buy me a drink while I fill you in."

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The three hunters had taken a quick run through the house before leaving, just in case there was something of note that could give them a clue on Diego, but found nothing as Tasha had expected. Half an hour later they were sitting in a booth in the crowded tavern and Dean was ordering a round of drinks.

Tasha wasn't usually much of a drinker. It wasn't that she couldn't handle her liquor but more that she couldn't afford to be caught off her game. Hunting and traveling alone while always watching your own six for any sign of Diego didn't leave her with many opportunities to let her guard down.

Tonight she didn't care. She needed to find some way of distracting her attention from the tight knot of grief she was feeling in her gut that was constantly threatening to boil over. She needed something to focus on other than the terrifying reality of being so alone that kept sending stabbing pains through her chest. She may be alone from now on but tonight, at least, she wasn't. The Winchesters showing up had proven to be a very convenient coincidence and she wasn't above using them to keep her mind off the pain she was feeling inside.

It was with that thought she made quick work of all the vodkas that Dean kept placing in front of her.

Closing time found them still in the booth, an array of empty beer bottles and vodka glasses still adorning the table since the busboy seemed to have forgotten their section two hours ago. Dean was on the bench seat with Tasha, his thigh pressed up tightly against hers and their shoulders and elbows touching as he raised his beer bottle to toast their last drink. He had been scooting closer and closer all evening, his eyes lingering longer each time they locked with hers. Sam had distanced himself ages ago, leaning back on his bench to sip his beer and only adding to the conversation when asked. Tasha got the impression he was used to being the third wheel to Dean and some random chick his brother decided to pick up but he managed a friendly enough smile as he clinked his beer bottle against her glass.

She had managed to keep it together all evening. Her head may be a little sluggish from the booze but she was aware enough to be glad that despite the constant threat of spilling over, the pain she was feeling had stayed where she wanted it - deep inside. The brothers had been pleasant company and she had even managed a few genuine laughs during the course of the evening. But now the waitress was giving them the wave that meant _'we're closing, get your asses out of here so I can go home_' and Tasha's stomach knotted slightly with dread.

First off, she didn't have anywhere to go. She hadn't taken the time to get a motel when she had raced into town from Wichita; she had gone straight to the morgue to see Aunt Viv's body and then straight over to stakeout the house. It wasn't like sleeping in her car was anything new, she just hadn't wanted to end this day that way.

Secondly, there wasn't anywhere else she'd rather be. She was fine right here. That front she had been managing to keep in place all night wouldn't survive five minutes of solitude. She wasn't ready to face the multitude of emotions ripping apart her insides right now and had no intention of even acknowledging them. As the three stood up to exit the bar, she gave each of the brothers a thoughtful glance.

She realized almost immediately that although Sam was probably more what she _**needed**_ tonight, a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, Dean was definitely more what she _**wanted. **_A hot, flirty distraction that hadn't once mentioned her aunt. Sure, he was a bit of an ass and completely full of himself, but goddamn if that smile of his didn't get sexier with every hour that passed.

He had been overtly flirting all night and she figured he wouldn't need any cues to make his move now that they were leaving. She knew the brothers were sharing a room at a motel on the outskirts of the city but was sure Sam would be tactful enough to make himself scarce. Politeness and manners seemed to be a thing with him.

Turns out it was that politeness and those manners that steered the evening from the direction she had hoped it would take. They had parked a block away in a small, secluded parking lot which was empty save their two cars by the time the three of them reached it. Just as Dean was leaning in to say something to her starting with a suggestive "Soooo, Tasha...," Sam cleared his throat and wrapped his fist in his brother's jacket sleeve, hauling him a few steps away.

"Can I just speak to my brother for a second?" he said politely, giving her an apologetic smile.

She tried to hide her annoyance. It wasn't like she spent the night with random guys she just met very often but tonight, she was admittedly pretty desperate for company, for a distraction, and Dean was one hell of an attractive distraction. She stayed where she was, however, standing a few yards away from her stolen Audi in the pale moonlight.

Sam spoke in a hushed voice but clearly thought she was drunker than she was because with a little strain of the ears, she could hear almost everything he was saying to his brother. "Dude," he whispered in a disapproving tone, "She just lost the last of her family."

"Yeah, so I say she could use some comfort tonight," Dean argued. Tasha couldn't see his face but could tell from his stance he was rolling his eyes at his little brother.

"You've been feeding her liquor all night," Sam continued. "She's drunk."

"She's a grown up, Sam," Dean fired back, his tone starting to show real annoyance. "And she's not that drunk," he argued. "Give me some credit, will you?"

Sam let out a frustrated huff and dragged his brother a few more paces away. They continued to argue but now Tasha couldn't hear what they were saying. She felt a little sheepish and increasingly uncomfortable as they basically debated whether or not Dean could ethically sleep with her or not. It was bordering on humiliating and she was a breath away from stepping into the argument, decidedly on Dean's side, when the men broke out of their huddle and came back over.

_Shit, Dean wasn't grinning a cocky grin of triumph like she had been hoping. _

"Uh, where are you staying, Tasha?" the elder Winchester asked her politely, his flirty tone gone and his previous habit of finding his way into her personal space suddenly dropped as he stopped a few feet away from her.

"I don't have a place," she told them truthfully. "I was just gonna crash in my car."

She saw the choked look Dean threw at Sam and had to hold back a smile when Sam sighed and admitted that he thought the motel they were staying at would have some vacancies. "I can get you a room," he offered.

She grinned, deciding to give the huge hunter a pass on the unintentional insult at the implication she couldn't afford her own room. She made enough money to get by through the usual hunter's methods of hustling and obtaining fake credit cards. Dean's eyes brightened and he shot his brother a smug look when she agreed.

"Yeah, sounds good, but I've had a few too many drinks to drive," she said in her best damsel in distress voice. "Think you could drive my Audi to the motel for me? It's stolen but there's a screwdriver under the seat to start her up with. I've already hotwired it."

"Uh, sure," Sam agreed politely.

"I'm gonna ride with Dean in this car, if you don't mind," she added quickly, stepping over to stand next to Dean in front of the Impala.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head with a sigh, clearly relieving himself of any responsibility for whatever happened that night. He had played the Good Samaritan and could go to sleep with a clear conscience. Tasha couldn't help but think it was sweet but she didn't need him looking out for her. She had been doing that herself for ten years and was still here with only a handful of major regrettable decisions under her belt.

"Okay," Sam nodded uncomfortably and headed to the Audi, getting in and fishing around for the screwdriver for a second before starting her up and pulling out of the lot.

Dean must have still been heeding Sam's earlier words for he hadn't picked the flirty demeanor back up. "Ready to go?" he said simply, turning to head towards the driver's side of the black car.

"Not yet," Tasha smiled at him, tugging his sleeve to stop him from moving away. He turned and she slid herself in between him and the hood of the classic car, standing merely a few inches away from him, her hand making its way to his chest. "What's your hurry?"

Dean practically licked his lips as he looked down at her hand, not touching her in return but not pulling away either. "You really shouldn't do that," he breathed.

She slid her palm up to his shoulder and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, stretching up to plant a solid kiss on his mouth. He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before his lips parted to let her tongue in, his hands moving in quickly to rest in the curve of her waist.

_God that was too easy._

The kiss became heated within seconds and Dean's fingers were soon fisting in her hair as he pressed against her, leaning her backwards over the Impala's hood. A long moment later he was pulling away to speak breathlessly into her ear. "Sam says you're grieving and vulnerable and I would be taking advantage," he groaned, eyeing her hungrily.

"I'm fine," she assured him, slipping a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and across the smooth hardness of his six-pack abs. "I know what I want. Besides, do you always do what your little brother says?"

He let his own hands slide down her shoulders inside her jacket, pushing it down her arms before moving back up to caress her breasts. He dipped his head down to press a series of wet kisses on her neck. "Fuck Sam," he rasped between kisses.

She let out a soft moan of pleasure at the sensations coursing through her as he worked his skilled hands and mouth. "Actually, I was kinda hoping to fuck you," she whispered, tipping her head back to give him better access to her neck and wrapping her ankles behind his legs.

He groaned at her bluntness, grinding his hardness between her thighs. He kissed her fervently on the lips again and she felt his fingers undoing her jeans as she shrugged completely out of her jacket. She spared a fleeting thought to hope nobody showed up in the little parking lot because she had no intention of stopping where this was going. This guy was unbelievably good so far and she was going to let him work his magic until she was numb and spent and could barely remember who Aunt Viv even was.

Eager fingers dipped inside her jeans and rubbed across the outside of her underwear. Dean kissed her hard, smothering her loud moan. Her own fingers curled into the sleeves of his shirt and she rocked her hips forward on the hood, heaving towards him in need. He didn't keep her waiting long and she felt him pushing the cloth aside to sink his middle finger deep inside her. She was literally quivering as he moved it in and out slowly, never once breaking the contact between their lips.

He soon replaced it with two and picked up the pace, her moans getting louder as she tipped her head back again in pleasure. "Oh God," she whimpered, his lips finding her neck once more. "Please!"

"Please what?" he grinned, his green eyes sparkling up at her as he continued to torture her right there on the hood of his car.

She reached for his jeans, her breath heavy. "Take them off," she ordered, already sliding the leather belt out of the buckle.

"You sure?" he asked, removing his fingers from inside her to help her with his zipper.

As his jeans fell open, dropping slightly to rest lower on his hips, she could see how ready he was by the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs and she nodded vigorously. _Yes, she was_ _sure._ He left his jeans up, however, and instead reached for the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it up and over her head with one quick tug.

Next thing she knew he was kissing her again, leaning over her so far she had to brace her hands on the hood behind her to keep from falling backwards. He immediately moved his trail of kisses downward, not stopping until he reached the fabric of her bra. One of his hands swept behind her and unfastened the obstruction while the other yanked it out of the way, tossing it behind her to land on the Impala's windshield wiper.

The next few moments were a blur of pleasure and bliss as he nipped and sucked and rolled her nipples with his tongue and fingers while one hand tugged her jeans and her panties past her hips and down her legs. She used the car's front grill to kick off her boots and let the jeans drop to the ground.

_Oh God this was exactly what she needed. Fuck this guy was good._

He pulled a hand back to shove his own jeans down to rest at thigh level and was just about to do the same to his underwear when she stopped him. "Wait," she panted, now lying buck naked on his hood, feet resting either side of him on the front fender. "Do you have a..."

"Of course," he cut her off, digging in his shirt pocket to reveal a small, square plastic wrapper, which he proceeded to rip open with his teeth. "I'm a regular boy scout."

"Always come prepared, huh?" she grinned, hooking her heels behind him and trying to resist the urge to pull his hips closer until he got the condom on.

"It's always _**be**_ prepared," he corrected with a chuckle, sliding the latex onto his impressive length with one hand while his other ran up and down the smooth skin of her thigh. "But I guess your version works better in this case."

And with that he was ready. He dipped one hand behind her into the small of her back and pulled her upwards, crashing his lips against hers and driving his tongue into her mouth before he pressed his hips forward. He teased her, sliding his tip back and forth across her wetness a few times before finally pushing himself in with a sharp thrust.

She cried out at the intrusion and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs, planting her palms on the cold metal of the hood to brace herself from the force of his thrust. He withdrew and slammed back in, quickly setting a hard and fast pace. She didn't hold back, gifting him with a loud, lustful cry every time he drove into her. His fingers dug into her hips and he grunted and panted as he slammed his full length in over and over. She eventually began to buck her hips up at him, throwing all of her weight onto her arms as she met his every thrust in midair, her back arching upwards as she propelled herself forward.

"Jesus!" she heard him groan but he never slowed and it was her who reached her climax first, screaming and wrapping her legs around him again. He kept pumping his hips, not even slowing as she panted and gasped her way through it. In fact, he slammed into her harder and faster as she fought to regain control of her breath, clawing at the hard surface beneath her.

"You okay, Tasha?" he panted, bending over to press a kiss to her knee that was surprisingly gentle, a move completely contradictory to the hard momentum his hips were maintaining.

"Oh God yes," she assured him. "Don't stop … please!"

Dean didn't stop. He pulled her ankles up to straighten out her legs and slid one over each of his shoulders. She cried out in complete ecstasy as he drove into her in the new position, not caring by this point if they were heard or even seen.

They were both panting and sweating and Tasha's loud moans rang through the night air of the parking lot. Any lingering thoughts of her aunt and her grief had long since disappeared and she was entirely lost in the heated energy and lust of the moment. Right now she was anything but alone and she gave herself fully over to the man who was making her feel better than she had ever known possible.

She cried out his name a few times before she felt herself exploding again. Her back arched upwards and she let out a scream of satisfaction as the waves of her orgasm ripped through her. Dean followed a few seconds behind her, gripping her hips tightly as he held himself inside through his grunted, quivering release.

"Fuck, you're limber," he said when he had finished, grinning at her through his heavy breathing.

Her eyes locked on his for a moment before he pulled her up into a long, breathless kiss. She slid her fingers around the back of his neck again, returning the kiss with equal passion. He didn't let up for a few long minutes that seemed more like an eternity and she was swallowed up by his all-encompassing presence. His scent, his unbelievably skilled mouth, his still-wandering hands, his unmistakable physical strength, and his surprising underlying gentleness.

_God, she never wanted this to end._

Of course it had to eventually and she whimpered when she felt him pull out of her. His palms were running up and down her arms and he kissed lightly along her jawbone to whisper in her ear. "You must be cold."

She was naked and damp with sweat and the March breeze definitely wasn't warm but she honestly hadn't noticed. She gave him a hooded smile. "On the contrary," she told him, pressing her body into his shirt-clad chest.

"Let's get you in the car," he urged and she couldn't help but think his tone was almost suggestive. He deftly pulled the condom off, tossing it into the bushes and hiked his jeans up from where they had come to rest on his thighs, buttoning up quickly. He then grabbed her hips and slid her forward off the hood, both of them laughing at the loud squeaking noise her bare skin made against the damp metal. He pulled her onto his hips and she wrapped her legs around him. "You've got bare feet," he said in way of unnecessary explanation, walking her around to the rear door behind he driver's side and pulling it open. He lowered her onto the back seat and kissed her again on the lips before heading back to scoop up all of her discarded clothes.

She watched him through the front window as he struggled to untangle her bra from the windshield wiper and smiled to herself. She barely realized she was now feeling the cold of the leather back seat biting into her skin. He came back around to the still-open door and held her clothes out before him, stopping to dig in his own pocket for something.

Tasha heard the last buzz of Dean's phone vibrating as he looked at the screen with a frown. "Text from Sam," he informed her. "Uh-oh. No vacancies."

She gave him a wink from where she lay, leaning back on her elbows. "I got a vacancy right here, Sexy."

A devilish grin spread over his face and he quickly began typing a reply on his phone. "Don't ... wait ... up," he said slowly as he typed before hitting send with a defiant 'hmph' and stuffing the phone back in his pocket. He climbed in the back door and hovered over her as he pulled the door shut behind him.

On his hands and knees above her, he paused and stared down into her eyes as he began to gently rub her arm. "You've got goose bumps," he announced, his warm hand caressing her cool flesh.

"Come a little closer and warm me up then," she cooed, hardly believing the seductive words were coming out of her mouth. She usually didn't talk this way; she usually let the men do all the wooing and left the corny, suggestive come-ons to them.

He didn't need any further enticement for he almost immediately pressed his body down on hers, shielding her from the cool night air and wrapping her in his warmth as he did so. His lips again found hers and she let him in, moaning softly to express her wonderment at how good this man could make her feel.

They made out for a while, quickly warming up the inside of the Impala and it wasn't long before the windows began to steam up. He was surprisingly gentle and passionate and pulled back every so often to look into her eyes as he kissed her, by far the most affectionate and intimate one night stand she'd ever had. His kiss soon intensified and the hands kneading and caressing her breasts were doing so with increasing urgency. As he grinded down against her, she could feel him getting hard again and knew he wasn't anywhere near finished for the night.

"Sit up," she breathed into his mouth, pushing up on his chest. He sprang upright immediately, clearly thinking he may have been squashing her slim frame underneath his muscular bulk. She slid out from under him and urged him into sitting position on the seat before kneeling down on the car floor in front of him and reaching for his zipper.

He let out a long groan when he realized what she was doing and relaxed into the seat, letting her pull his jeans and boxers down and off past his ankles. She pulled at his semi-hard length and gave it a few slow strokes before letting her tongue roll around the tip. He shuddered and groaned and she rewarded him by wrapping her lips around him and taking him all the way in, inch by quickly-hardening inch. She picked up her pace as she bobbed her head up and down, giving the head extra attention with her tongue at every upward stroke. It didn't take long for his hands to fist in her long brown hair and she felt herself getting hot and wet at the sounds she was eliciting from him.

She could tell he was close but she was so turned on by this point she wanted to come with him. She replaced her mouth with her hand and glanced up at him. "You got any more, Boy Scout?" she panted hungrily.

He grinned, reaching back in his shirt pocket to pull out a handful of condoms. "They were only a quarter each in the men's bathroom," he grinned.

"That was presumptuous of you," she scolded with a laugh, pulling herself up to straddle his knees as he ripped open a package and fumbled to get the condom on quickly.

"Was I wrong?" he fired back, unrolling to the base and moving his hands immediately to her hips to help guide her towards him.

She moaned loudly and tipped her head back as he lowered her onto him. "Oh God," she panted. "No you were right," she admitted, working her hips into a steady but slow rhythm back and forth on his lap. "Cocky and arrogant, but right."

He grinned at her and started pushing and pulling her hips faster and harder until she was bouncing up and down on his lap furiously, crying out and moaning for more. Her fingers were clasping his shoulders so hard she was sure she'd be drawing blood if he didn't have a shirt on. She leaned backwards for a better angle and to feel him deeper inside, using the back of the bench seat behind her and then the car roof for leverage as she thrusted onto him. He began bucking upwards and she was sure the car was rocking as she rode him furiously until they both finally exploded with lustful shouts of relief.

He pulled her chest up against his, kissing her mouth with short, needy kisses as their breathing slowed. His arms were around her, tracing gentle lines up and down her back and making detours around to caress one or both of her breasts. She reached forward and urged him to remove his shirt and t-shirt, finally allowing the hot, sweaty flesh of their chests to touch.

He finally lowered her down onto the seat, absently bunching his t-shirt and jeans up into a ball under her head against the passenger side door as he wedged himself in behind her, his arms still holding her close. Half on him, half on the seat, she was surprisingly comfortable and warm. His fingers never stopped tracing lines up and down the curve of her waist, hip and shoulder as he kissed her collarbone a few times before pulling back.

He was _**cuddling**_. She really hadn't expected him to cuddle afterwards. Not that she was complaining - every part of her body and mind was begging for him not to end the physical contact and the closeness they were sharing at this moment. But maybe she'd been completely wrong about him. Well, she had been right about her suspicions that he would be good in bed - hell, he was amazing, but he was a far more considerate lover than she'd anticipated.

She wasn't fooling herself; she knew she was probably nothing more than an incredibly easy lay to him, another notch on his belt and another drinking story to share with his hunting buddies, but right now she didn't care.

They lay there in each other's arms for a long, silent, but surprisingly comfortable time. Dean finally reached over her and grabbed a sleeping bag that had been crumpled on the floor of the car and pulled it over them, nudging her head into the crook of his arm.

"So what are you gonna do now?" he asked when she had settled in. "Where are you gonna go?"

_Shit, back to reality._

"Uh, keep hunting, I guess," she answered quietly. "Keep moving."

"Don't you have any friends you can go stay with for a while?"

She frowned slightly. "I don't have any friends," she admitted. "I don't make friends."

He snorted his apparent disbelief, wiping a stray lock of hair from her eyes as he peered into them curiously.

"My grandfather - my mom's dad - had friends," she continued, feeling the unusual urge to explain herself. She very seldom shared this much information and thought to herself she must be feeling particularly vulnerable to be doing it now. Nevertheless, she kept talking. "Diego caught and tortured a number of them until one finally gave up where my grandfather was. He killed them all as well as my grandfather. My parents didn't want that to happen to anyone they knew so they made a point to never keep in touch with anyone."

"But ... but you can't not have _**any**__." _Dean's utter disbelief was apparent in his voice.

"Nope. None," Tasha confirmed truthfully.

"Gimme your phone," he demanded suddenly.

"What?"

"You heard me." He reached over her and grabbed her leather jacket from the floor, raking through her pockets until he found what he was looking for.

"What are you doing?" she asked in amusement.

He scrolled to her contact list which was, of course, empty.

"Jesus," he breathed. "Its empty."

"I told you," she said with a snicker. "I don't have friends."

He started pressing numbers into the phone and smiled down at her as he handed it back. She looked at the screen and saw one name in her contact list.

DEAN 866-907-3235

"Now you have a friend," he said softly, kissing her on the forehead.

She grinned up at him. Okay, he definitely wasn't the bad-ass love-em-and-leave-em player she had first thought him to be. She would erase the number and forget about ever seeing him again as soon as he and his brother left town tomorrow, but she had to admit, she was finding what he just did incredibly sweet and her heartbeat was speeding up.

_Crap, why was her stomach doing somersaults? Oh this was so not good. Since when was she such a sucker for a cheesy come-on move? _

The heated flush that swept across her face thankfully went unnoticed for at that instant, his fingers slid in between her legs, slowly rubbing back and forth and she cried out in surprise. He grinned and shifted himself over her, his breath becoming heavier as she moaned and arched up towards him.

He kissed her mouth and began to move his body lower, trailing wet kisses down her chest to her navel. "Your turn," he said in a husky voice as his head disappeared between her thighs.

Within seconds she was moaning and panting and bucking at him wildly, her fingers curled in his short hair or around the edges of the Impala's leather seat. If she had been impressed with his skill of the tongue in her mouth or on her nipple, she was mesmerized and awestruck by the sheer pleasure and ecstasy it was giving her now. Licks, nibbles, flicks, deep thrusts ... it was doing it all and within minutes she was crying out in desperation as she came in his mouth.

He walked his hands back up the seat so his face was hovering over her face again as she regained her breath, his huge grin an obvious sign he was enjoying her reaction. He fumbled with his discarded shirt on the floor and came up with a handful of the small, plastic squares. He rubbed his hard-on against her overly-sensitive but soaking wetness between her legs and her breath hitched in anticipation.

He used his teeth again to open one of the condom wrappers, taking the time to stuff the rest carefully into the empty ashtray on the door handle behind her head. "I'll be making full use of my buck seventy-five tonight," he grinned, getting a chuckle out of her.

He was gentle and slow this time round, staying on top of her and kissing her continuously as he moved in and out. Tasha found it again intoxifying and it seemed to last a delightfully long time. His hands rubbed tender circles on her shoulders and he murmured things in her ear as he rocked back and forth on top of her. "Oh Baby, you feel so good." "God, you're beautiful." "Damn you taste so sweet." "You're sexy as Hell, you know that?"

Eventually their rhythm picked up as she felt another orgasm approaching and her ankles wrapped behind his thighs, pulling him deeper and harder towards her. He responded with a few hard thrusts before burying himself inside to release, remaining there until his breathing had slowed enough to speak.

"Come to Maine with me and Sam," he blurted, rolling off and pulling her into him in a tight embrace.

She was caught off guard by the suggestion. "What?" she stammered.

"Maine," he repeated. "If there are no leads on Diego, Sam and I had another possible hunt lined up in Maine so we'll be heading there tomorrow." He turned his green eyes to hers and held her gaze steadily. "Come with us."

"I don't know," she hesitated, her head spinning. "I usually hunt alone."

"So do me and Sam," he shrugged. "I'm just saying let's work one hunt together. Just for a few days then we can go our separate ways. You shouldn't be alone right now and I..." He gave her a cheeky smirk, "I wouldn't mind a few more nights like this one."

She had to laugh and she reached up to kiss him before settling into his hold again. "Neither would I," she said honestly. "Okay. What the fuck, I'll go to Maine."

He grinned and pulled the sleeping bag up over them again, his arms still wrapped around her. He didn't seem to mind his bent knees and neck as his tall form settled in the tight quarters of the back seat. Clearly he was used to sleeping in here. They lay in comfortable silence until he drifted off to sleep, his gentle snores giving her a strange sense of comfort as she rested her head on his chest.

A few more nights of this? Hell, she could live the rest of her life like this and never look back.

**/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\**

Dean woke up a couple of hours later and did indeed make full use of his $1.75 before the night was through. They both collapsed and fell asleep just before dawn only to be woken up three hours later by a gentle knock on the Impala's window.

Tasha looked up with a start, grasping the sleeping bag to her chest to make sure she remained covered as Dean flung the back door open with a growl of annoyance.

"It's early, Sam!" he snapped at the man standing outside the door.

Tasha couldn't help but chuckle when she noticed the tall hunter standing stiffly facing away from the car. "Uh..." he stammered uncomfortably, "You'd better get up. The meter maid's on his way down the street and the parking lot is a paying lot during the day."

Dean groaned but sat up, reaching down and fishing around for his clothes on the floor. He leaned over and kissed her cheek as he threw her a smile. "Maine," he reminded her. Her eyes widened in mild surprise. She had half thought his invitation was extended in the throes of passion and lust and he would have forgotten it by now.

"Ditch the Audi," he told her as he hauled up his jeans. "You can ride in here with us."

**/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\-/\\/\\/\\**

_**A/N:**__ Ok, I know there was a lot of sex in this (even though it was tamer than my usual - haha!) but Dean and Tasha shared a really strong sexual chemistry and this was their first night so that had to come into effect right off the bat. I know I don't do Tasha's POV in the fic that follows this one-shot (Two Guys, a Girl, and a Ticket to Hell), but hopefully this will give a better indication of where she was coming from in that story. As always, please let me know what you thought and leave a review!_


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